inception
by Taywen
Summary: There's a reason why District Twelve never wins the Hunger Games. *Written for Starvation Forum's December prompt: The 2nd Annual Hunger Games.*


Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc.

Written for Starvation Forum's December prompt, '**The 2nd Annual Hunger Games**'.

Warning: Harsh language. There are several f-bombs, among other things. Proceed with caution ~

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><p>inception<p>

(or, the reason why district twelve never wins the hunger games)

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><p>in·cep·tion; <em>noun<em>:

beginning; start; commencement.

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><p>[OFFICIAL RECORDS OF PANEM]<p>

The 1st Annual Hunger Games

VICTOR: None

TRIBUTES: [file corrupted]

ARENA: Desert

NOTES: The concept of the Hunger Games was sound – in theory. What better way to prove the Capitol's dominance of the Districts than by taking their most vulnerable, their future – their children – and forcing them to fight to the death? The parents, rebel or neutral, were powerless to protect their children, and they would be forced to watch their children kill each other.

What the Capitol didn't count on was the children's resistance. Faced with the inevitability of their own death, the tributes (as they posthumously became known) simply sat around the Cornucopia until they died. None of them attempted to eat the food or take up a weapon against each other.

By the fourth day, only two tributes remained – both fell unconscious at some point in the night, and died too closely together for retrieval to be possible. As a result, there was no Victor that year.

The families of the tributes were brutally executed less than a week later.

xx

[The following is an excerpt from the audio files of the 1st Annual Games, an exchange between the last two tributes that was silenced before the broadcast went out.]

_Tribute One_: (sobbing) I- I don't want to die. I'm scared-

_Tribute Two_: Dying can't be any worse than living in this damn country is, can it? At least we won't be slaves to the fucking Capitol.

_Tribute One_: (hysterically) How can you say that? Isn't living as a slave better than death-!

_Tribute Two_: You're a fucking idiot if you think the Capitol will take you out of this godforsaken arena after we refused to play their damn game. You want to kill me? You think that'll earn you some mercy from those bastards? Then go for it. I'm not afraid to die.

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><p><span>The 2nd Annual Hunger Games<span>

VICTOR: Iris Weir, 17, D12F – kills [chronologically]: D12M; D10F; D3M; D5F; D8M; D7F; D10M; D4F; D7M; D2M

RUNNER-UP: Alexander Ross, 18, D2M – kills [chronologically]: D1M; D2F; D6F; D5M; D3F; D1F; D8F; D4M; D9F

TRIBUTES: Amelia South, 14, D1F

Patrick Lachlan, 16, D1M

Vanessa Boyd, 15, D2F

Alexander Ross, 18, D2M

Lola Yale, 12, D3F

Tyson McNamara, 13, D3M

Kayla Hogan, 16, D4F

Jason Enns, 14, D4M

Allison Lane, 14, D5F

Sung Lee, 17, D5M

Esther Maine, 13, D6F

Werner Boyce, 17, D6M

Marjorie Despins, 12, D7F

Hansel Lot, 18, D7M

Jaclyn Dale, 15, D8F

Oliver Twirl, 13, D8M

Florence Gale, 18, D9F

Paul Peters, 16, D9M

Carly Vice, 12, D10F

Ivan Shane, 13, D10M

Danielle Xavier, 16, D11F

Sal Adams, 16, D11M

Iris Weir, 17, D12F

Andrew Hale, 12, D12M

ARENA: Forest

NOTES: Within the Capitol, there was some trepidation that the 2nd Annual Hunger Games would be a disappointing repeat of its predecessor. This fear was not assuaged by the high number of so-called 'younger' tributes - i.e. those between the ages of 12 and 14. There seemed to be a disproportionate number - they accounted for nearly half of the allotted number of tributes.

The Districts continued their sullen defiance, spoiling goods meant for the Capitol, ambushing and murdering Peacekeepers, seemingly uncaring of the rising death toll of their own people. The government needed to destroy their resistance, with the prevalent opinion being that a successful Hunger Games was the answer. The question then became how to engineer such a thing? If the deaths within the Districts continued, there was a very real possibility that some of the smaller ones would be wiped out, when the disgusting conditions within the areas was taken into consideration.

President Snow (Sr.) took the tributes aside after they were brought to the Capitol and laid out, in no uncertain terms, what would happen to their families should they choose to continue their predecessors' resistance - namely, that their families would die a slow and painful death, one that would make the previous year's executions look downright merciful.

(It should be noted that, in addition to there being a large number of younger tributes, there was also a disproportionate number of non-orphans. No one noticed this at the time, but the number of orphans to the number of children with a family was quite high. In fact, there were _no_ orphans in the 2nd Annual Hunger Games.)

The tributes were shipped off to the arena the next day.

President Snow's threats proved effective - as soon as the Hunger Games began, two older tributes, Iris Weir of District Twelve and Alexander Ross of District Two, immediately began slaughtering their fellows. Weir, in particular, seemed bent on eliminating the weaker competition. In the aftermath of what would later become known as 'the bloodbath', her kills were exclusively those below the age of 15. There was considerable outcry in her home District, Twelve, when her first kill was her partner, Andrew Hale. No one seemed to know how to react when she went on to kill others just like him.

After the initial shock, several other tributes banded together, grabbing supplies and weapons in the chaos before fleeing. Weir and Ross allied together, splitting the supplies once the remaining tributes had fled. What they couldn't carry, they burned. The remaining tributes were Kayla Hogan and Jason Enns (the only 'younger' tribute to survive) of District Four; Werner Boyce of District Six; Hansel Lot of District Seven; Jaclyn Dale of District Eight; Florence Gale and Paul Peters of District Nine; and Danielle Xavier and Sal Adams of District Eleven.

District partners Hogan and Enns stuck together, as did Xavier and Adams. The rest struck out alone.

Ross and Weir began tracking the others the following day. Mid-afternoon, they came upon Dale, who had been wounded the previous day. Ross dispatched her, and he and Weir continued on their way.

On the third day, Boyce ran into the tributes from District Eleven. After a brief scuffle, they killed him. That night, they were killed by feline muttations.

Nothing significant happened on the fourth day, but on the fifth the tributes from District Nine found each other. Peters attempted to kill Gale, but Lot stepped in and killed Peters. Gale and Lot agreed to ally.

A day later, Hogan and Enns got caught in an ambush set by Weir and Ross.

And on the seventh day, the two remaining alliances were driven together by the feline muttations. In the ensuing confrontation, Weir dispatched Lot and Ross took care of Gale.

Then Weir turned on Ross and became the first Victor of the Hunger Games.

xx

[The following is a clip detailing the final confrontation of the 2nd Annual Hunger Games.]

"You sold out. YOU FUCKING SOLD OUT! Who the fuck do you think you are-!" Florence Gale screams, her grip white-knuckled around the hilt of her sword. Her hair is wild, filthy, giving her an animalistic appearance. The grime streaked on her face contorts as she screams her hatred at Iris Weir and Alex Ross.

To be fair, the other three remaining tributes look no better.

"Winners~" Alex drawls back, cocky in a way that will only serve to infuriate the girl from District Nine. Iris stays silent, her expression blank - as it has been since the start of the Games.

"I'LL KILL YOU-!" Florence seems seconds away from lunging at the boy.

"Do you even feel anything?" Hansel interrupts, his sharp gaze focussed on Iris - leaving on doubt who the question is addressed to.

Iris stares back blankly. When it becomes obvious that no one will react before she answers, the girl finally says, "About what?"

Hansel's eyes narrow in fury. "About killing- _innocent children_!" he shouts, shaking his hatchet at her.

"It had to be done," Iris points out.

"Don't act like you're not happy we took care of that for you," Alex cuts in, smirking. "Now, assuming you win - which won't happen, by the way - you can go back to your District without the blood of 'innocent children' on your hands. So, really, you should be thanking us."

"The only thanks you'll be getting is my sword through your throat!" Florence hisses.

"Are we going to talk, or are we going to fight?" Iris asks - it would be a demand, but for the utter lack of emotion in her voice.

"We're going to kill you," Hansel promises.

"And then what? You'll kill her? She'll kill you?" Alex guesses, chuckling.

"You sick fuck- do you actually enjoy it?" Florence demands. "I don't know what's worst, some psycho bitch who doesn't even care about killing or a bastard like you that gets off on it-!"

"It's 'I don't know what's _worse_', actually ~" Alex replies tauntingly. "Honestly, how did a stupid girl like you survive so long?"

Florence gives wordless screech of anger and launches herself at Alex.

Hansel lunges at Iris a moment later. Iris blocks his initial strike with one of her twin daggers, twisting in towards him so she can strike at his torso with her other blade. The boy jerks away, and she only manages to shallowly cut him. Hansel backhands her, sending Iris staggering away. She falls to the ground, dropping her daggers along the way.

"You shouldn't have killed Marge," Hansel tells her coldly, as he raises his axe over his head, clutching the shaft in both hands. He brings it down with all his strength, but Iris rolls away at the last possible moment. She springs to her feet, pulling another dagger (tucked into her belt at the small of her back) out and stabbing it into Hansel's chest. It misses his heart, but Iris jerks it out and slashes his throat before he can react.

An unreadable expression crosses her face as she watches Hansel fall, gone too quickly for it to be analyzed. [If one slowed the video down, stopping it completely at the correct moment, one might have seen something like regret on Iris Weir's face.]

"What a BITCH!" Alex cackles, viciously stamping on a downed Florence's throat. Her neck makes a sickening crunching sound, but Iris doesn't react, staring down at Hansel's body. "Oh, are you done too~?" He bounds over to Iris, grinning madly.

"... Mm. I'm done," Iris agrees, turning to face her ally.

"Oh, gosh. You've got blood all over your face." Alex drops his sword and tries to wipe it away with one filthy sleeve. It's a futile effort, to say the least. The affection in his voice seems genuine, though given the mercurial nature of the boy's moods, it is impossible to tell if this is actually the case.

"Pick up your sword, Alex," Iris says, pulling away.

Alex pouts. "Why? We don't have to fight right away... Do we?" He leans forward and whispers something in her ear. [If one amplified the sound, one might have heard him whisper, "Why can't we just live here - if we refuse to kill each other, what can they do to us?"]

"You mustn't say such things," Iris hisses sharply - whether from annoyance or fear, it's impossible to say.

Alex flinches, looking momentarily hurt by her words. "Iris..."

"Pick up your sword, Alex," she repeats more firmly.

The boy scowls. "In a _minute_, for fuck's sake. What's your problem?"

"My problem is that I'm one kill away from getting out of here," Iris retorts.

Alex spreads his arms, his usually expressive face a cold mask for the first time. "Then do it," he says challengingly.

Iris tightens her grip on her dagger, a muscle in her jaw twitching. "Pick up your sword!"

They stare at each other in silence, and then Alex lunges at her, knocking her dagger aside. He tackles her to the ground, straddling her hips.

"Why do you have to be so difficult-!" Alex demands despairingly, pinning her wrists down with his hands. He leans down and presses their lips together, seemingly unbothered by the blood smeared across both their faces. Iris' gray eyes are wide, but after a moment she closes them and it seems as if she is enjoying the kiss.

Alex jerks away with a hiss, turning his head to spit out blood. Presumably she bit his tongue. "Fuck-! Why can't you just- I don't understand you at _all_-!" he snaps, scowling. "You were so adamant about killing the weaker kids first but I could see it in your eyes, Iris! You didn't _want_-!"

Iris arches up, not kissing Alex so much as biting at his mouth. "If you want to kill me, go ahead," she pants, her eyes half-lidded as she stares at her ally. She has stopped struggling, her wrists limp in the boy's grip. "I- I don't mind. But we have to finish this, one way or another."

"But not right now. Tomorrow. Please?" Alex asks pleadingly, lacing their fingers together. "We can fight tomorrow, Iris. I'll try my best to kill you, I promise."

Iris stays silent for a long time, then smiles, apparently coming to a decision. "Ok. Tomorrow," she agrees.

Alex smiles back, beatific. "Thank you, Iris." He releases her wrists, and Iris immediately switches their position, still smiling as she leans over him.

"Well? Are you going to kiss me again?" Iris murmurs, her lips not quite brushing his as she utters the words.

"If you insist~" Alex's smirk is lost as he sits up, one hand settling on the girl's hip while the other cradles the back of her head. "I l-!"

Iris stabs him in the back, right in the heart.

From the look of betrayal on Alex's face, it's clear he didn't expect that at all. "Iris... Why-?"

"I wanted to win, Alex." No inflection, no emotion - Iris Weir's face is as blank as her voice as she watches Alexander Ross die.

xx

NOTES: [cont'd] In the words of Florence Gale - Iris Weir had sold out. The people of District Twelve actively shunned her - she lived alone in the Victor's Village, when it was erected several years later. Her family would have nothing to do with her. Larson Hale was killed by Peacekeepers when he publicly assaulted Weir. The Hale family refused all help when Weir attempted to aid them financially.

For years afterwards, District Twelve's tributes were mercilessly slaughtered at the Cornucopia, or - on the rare occasions that they managed to escape - brutally murdered when other tributes caught up with them later in the Hunger Games. The other tributes claimed that it was 'punishment' for Weir's actions.

Eventually, it became just another tradition of the Hunger Games. There would be a bloodbath, and nine times out of ten, Twelve's tributes would die in it. While other tributes might, at times, overcome the 'Careers' that began to appear and win the Hunger Games, those tributes would never be from District Twelve.

Iris Weir committed suicide ten years later. The Capitol conducted an elaborate funeral, vaunting Iris as a 'revolutionary' and an 'innovator' to the mutual disgust of all the Districts.

No one mourned her passing.

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><p>[The following is an excerpt taken from the day before the Second Annual Hunger Games, transmitted from rebel bugs planted within the President's office.]<p>

_Gaius Snow_: ... I trust you understand your duty, tributes. And the consequences if you should fail at said duty. Are there any questions?

_Vanessa Boyd_: Are you fucking serious? Do you really think we'll go along with this, you sick bastard-!

(a sharp sound, like a hand striking a face; sobbing, from another source)

_Snow_: That's enough. Stand down. In answer to your question, Miss Boyd - yes, I am perfectly serious. Deadly serious, even.

_Iris Weir_: (timidly) Excuse me, sir. Can I ask you a question?

_Snow_: Of course, Miss Weir.

_Iris_: Well, actually, can I ask you... alone?

_Unidentified Peacekeeper_: You can't be serious.

_Snow_: Leave us. All of you.

(shuffling, the sounds of a door opening and then closing)

_Snow_: Well, Miss Weir? What is it you wanted to ask me.

_Iris_: I know you said that you'd kill the families of the kids – sorry, tributes – that don't cooperate. But for the little kids like Andy – I mean, Andrew Hale – you can't expect them to be able to stand up to older kids.

_Snow_: (sharply) Like yourself, Miss Weir?

_Iris_: ... Yes, like myself, sir. If the younger kids were k- ... _killed_ by one of the older ones, that would count as them cooperating, would it not? That would be horrifying, a young child being mercilessly killed by an older one, wouldn't it.

_Snow_: (mildly) It is not your place to dictate to me, Miss Weir.

_Iris_: Of course not, sir. I would never presume... I'm just asking a question.

_Snow_: What you're proposing isn't really what I had in mind... But if you're prepared to do so, I see no reason why that would be unacceptable.

_Iris_: Thank you-

_Snow_: (cutting her off) You will tell no one of this exchange, do you understand me?

_Iris_: Yes, sir. Not a word. ... The younger kids being those between the ages of 12 to 14, right?

_Snow_: (dismissively) Yes, yes. ... Is that all?

_Iris_: (quietly) Yes.

_Snow_: Then leave me.

(shuffling, presumably Iris leaving)

_Snow_: (thoughtfully) Such selflessness. I wonder if she'll win? At the cost of the younger children... I can't imagine such a heartless murderer would be celebrated. (chuckles) I'd like to see that.

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><p>AN: Well, there it is. The style's pretty... different, heh. I liked doing the script writing though. I enjoyed writing this a whole lot, actually.

And for the record, Iris did love Alex, as much as you could love a psycho guy like that. :D

**Credit where credit's due**... Inspired by _in protest of this peace_, by hewhoistomriddle. You should totally read that, it's freaking awesome. Also, the definition of _inception_ was taken from dictionary[dot]com.

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated ~


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